


Too Much Is Not Enough

by Lys ap Adin (lysapadin)



Series: A Collection of Shiro Clones Is a Terrible Thing to Waste [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Clonecest, Gangbang, M/M, Smut, and I'm taking Shiro's army of clones with me, i will face canon and walk backwards into hell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-14
Updated: 2018-10-14
Packaged: 2019-08-02 04:06:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16297850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lysapadin/pseuds/Lys%20ap%20Adin
Summary: Sometimes all Keith really wants is for his man and four of his clones to fuck him silly.Keith has contemplated the thought that Takashi Shirogane would be the death of him more than a few times, all with varying degrees of conviction, but this is the first time he's thought it one hundred percent in earnest.God, though. What a way to go. If this is how he dies, Keith isn't going to have any regrets.





	Too Much Is Not Enough

**Author's Note:**

> Adult for smut. Gangbang. Clonecest. Totally non-canon-compliant. Look, there is no redeeming artistic value here, okay? It's just porn.
>
>> You: But didn't Kuron's fight with Keith destroy the clone facility and all the clones?
>> 
>> Me: Shhhh.
>> 
>> You: And if Kuron's still around—okay, fine, Ryou, whatever—if Ryou's still around, then where did Shiro get a body from?
>> 
>> Me: Shhhhhhhhhhhhh.
>> 
>> You: But what about—
>> 
>> Me: *covers your mouth* No questions, just smut.
>> 
>> You: *muffled sounds*
>> 
>> Me: *firmly* No. Questions. Just. Smut.

Keith has contemplated the thought that Takashi Shirogane would be the death of him more than a few times, all with varying degrees of conviction, but this is the first time he's thought it one hundred percent in earnest.

God, though. What a way to go. If this is how he dies, Keith isn't going to have any regrets.

Someone—he's lost track already—is moving slow fingers inside him, three to stretch him hard and make the breath stutter in his throat every time they hit his prostate. This has been going on for a while now, long enough that Keith would ordinarily have done something about it, complained or commanded or begged, but it's tough to do any of those around the cock filling his mouth, sliding heavy over his tongue and stretching his jaw muscles to the aching point. He's not sure any more how many pairs of hands are moving over his skin, stroking and petting him, or how many mouths are teasing over his throat and pressing kisses to his palms. He _does_ know that Ryou is between his knees, sucking his cock like it's his sole purpose in life.

These days it kind of _is_ , and _God_ , he's good at it. He's flirting his tongue over the head right now, soft little brushes against the most sensitive—and sensitized—part of Keith's body. Each soft touch sends a shudder of pleasure through Keith that doesn't ever quite build to anything. It's good, fuck, it's _amazing_ , but it's not _enough_. 

He pulls his fingers free of the mouth that's wrapped around them and reaches down to grip the splash of white in Ryou's hair and pull. Ryou groans, breath gusting hot over his cock, and obeys by opening his mouth and sliding it down Keith's cock—all the way down. He swallows around Keith, the muscles of his throat working and constricting around the head of Keith's cock at the same time the fingers moving inside Keith crook and nail his prostate. 

It's enough. The slow heat that's been building ever since Keith gave himself over to their hands flashes over into an inferno, scorching Keith as he pulls taut and comes straight down Ryou's throat and utters a strangled groan around the cock in his mouth. They all swear that they're not actually psychic, but their coordination is so uncanny that sometimes, Keith really wonders about that.

Not that he has the wherewithal for that right now, not when pleasure is still burning through him even after the rush of orgasm subsides. Ryou hums around his cock and the fingers inside him keep moving; someone is kissing his throat and there are fingers playing with his nipples, large warm hands smoothing over his skin—there's no way Keith can come down from the edge like this, can do much more than moan while sensation rolls through him. 

It's honestly kind of perfect. 

Someone murmurs—he's pretty sure it's Shiro, his intonation is just a little bit different from the rest of them, but it's tough to be absolutely certain under the circumstances—and Ryou pulls off him. Keith sags, torn between relief and disappointment, and groans when the fingers slide out of him and the cock slips out of his mouth. For a moment, he's utterly bereft. 

But not for long. Whoever is behind him—Shiro, it has to be Shiro, none of the four Keith has eyes on has a full head of quintessence-bleached hair—Shiro coaxes him up onto his knees and draws him back, down onto his cock. It verges on the edge of being too much too soon, the slide and stretch of Shiro's cock sinking into him, stroking across hypersensitive nerves, but it's not. It's exactly what Keith wants, so he leans back against Shiro's chest, groaning as Shiro bottoms out inside him, and lets one of the triplets spread his thighs across Shiro's lap as he tilts his head back to rest against Shiro's shoulder. 

They hold like that, poised together, Shiro breathing fast against his ear and Keith still trembling with the aftershocks of orgasm, with how full he is. Then someone, one of the triplets, utters a low curse, reverent, as Shiro rocks up, a slow powerful roll of his hips, and everything surges into motion again.

He's not sure which of the triplets cups his jaw and guides his face around; when they're naked and their hair is equally tousled it's impossible to tell which of the triplets is which. Not that it matters right now, not really. Keith opens his mouth obediently and accepts the cock sliding across his tongue. He lifts a hand blindly and someone catches it, guides it to his cock, slick enough that Keith can fist it easily. He tries to stroke it, but every time Shiro rocks into him it sets off fireworks inside his skull and he loses track of the rhythm. Every time the triplet fucking his mouth slides deep it distracts him again, until he feels a hand close around his wrist, holding him so that he can fuck into Keith's fist instead. 

That works a lot better, since Keith is rapidly losing the ability to think in anything approaching a coherent fashion. Every time he tries, Shiro pushes into him again, slides into him thick and slow, dragging against the sensitive skin of his rim and stroking over his prostate, and that scatters his thoughts on the starburst of sensation. And there are fingers in his hair, holding him just firmly enough to really _feel_ it, an easy ache to match the one in his jaw as the cock moves back and forth over his tongue, nudging the back of his throat—God, that's good, it's so good to have Shiro in him like this, filling him up so perfectly, murmuring breathless words of praise against his ear—

One of them presses his mouth to Keith's chest, licks the sweat from his sternum and latches onto one of his nipples to suck hard. Keith doesn't know what the sound he makes is, because it's not a groan and not a shout, but he makes it and hears someone swear. The cock filling his mouth twitches and pulls back, not quite fast enough, and paints sticky-hot stripes across Keith's tongue and lips and face, maybe deliberately and maybe not. Keith is fine with it either way. Tonight everything and anything is on the table, especially when he can feel their approval and delight wrapped around him, warm as summer sunshine and sweet as honey as he rests his head against Shiro's shoulder and pants for breath. 

A hand wraps around his cock, slow and firm, a sudden shocking rush of feeling that's almost more than Keith can process. When he tries to jerk his hips, either into it or away, he's not sure which, someone stills him, leaves him pinned and helpless to do anything but take the way Shiro is fucking him and someone—not Ryou, when he cracks his eyes open to check, he sees only dark hair—someone works his cock slowly, steadily. It's Ryou mouthing his chest, Ryou who sets his teeth against Keith's nipple just firmly enough that the sharpness hits Keith like a blow. He doesn't come—doesn't think he comes, not again, not so soon—but sensation rakes through him and a yell scrapes its way out of his throat. 

Shiro's hips stutter against him before he surges into Keith, hard and fast. Keith stretches his free hand out, needing something to hold onto against the way he feels like he's going to fly into pieces, and one of the triplets catches it. Keith grips his fingers, feeling the groan rumbling in Shiro's chest, and gasps as Shiro jerks against him, coming undone. Keith can feel the pulse of it inside him, intimate and perfect, and groans with Shiro as Shiro presses his forehead against his shoulder and shakes. It's so good. It's not enough.

He doesn't know whether he says so or if they're just paying that close attention to him, but when Shiro starts to soften and slip free of him, there are hands to catch Keith, landing on his hips and under his shoulders, lifting and maneuvering him onto his back. His head ends up pillowed in Shiro's lap and he gets a glimpse of Shiro's face, flushed and smiling, before one of the triplets lifts his hips and pushes into him, one long, deep thrust.

Keith cries out, arching into the sudden stab of sensation, eyes falling shut against it. Fingers slide into his hair and tip his head back and someone sink into his mouth, pushing deep and demanding that he relax his throat for it. Keith does and groans as the two of them fall into a rhythm, fucking him between the two of them, _using_ him—

A hand wraps around him again and Keith is gone just like that, shouting around the cock in his throat and his body working around the one buried inside him as he spasms, shaking as orgasm wrings down on him again, verging on the edge of what's bearable. Their rhythm doesn't even falter, which puts another twist of heat through Keith and has his cock twitching feebly over the fingers wrapped around it—

They hike his hips up, fold him nearly in half, and Keith all but howls as they fuck him harder, pounding into him mercilessly, the filthy slap of skin against skin and their groans of effort mingling together. They finish almost simultaneously, one grinding into him and bruising the backs of his thighs with the way he's digging his fingers into the meat of them, and the other coming down his throat in relentless pulses that Keith has to swallow if he doesn't want to choke. Keith whines, desperate and shuddering, every nerve he possesses sensitized almost to the point of pain.

Someone murmurs over him, uncertain. Worried. His name. A question—is it too much?

No. No, he wants this, wants all of them. Words don't come to him easily right now, and he can barely focus his bleary gaze when he opens his eyes—oh, of course. It's Ryou. Ryou is the last, hanging back and hesitating. 

God knows where he manages to summon the strength from, let alone the approximation of coordination, but Keith manages it somehow, flailing his way off his back and more or less throwing himself at Ryou, knocking him onto his back. There's jizz dripping out of him, sliding down his thighs and drying on his face and stomach, and Ryou's eyes are wide and shocked as Keith straddles him and impales himself on his cock. 

Ryou lifts his hands to catch him with something that isn't quite a laugh, but he gets the point—he plants his feet and moves, bucking up into Keith. Keith shudders and lets Ryou take his weight, panting as Ryou's cock drags in and out of him, steady as a heartbeat. He's not going to come again, he's too wrung out for it, but it feels right anyway. It feels even better when the others move closer. Someone murmurs praise against his ear, a steady rumble that Keith can barely parse, and they thread their fingers into his hair and carding the tangles out of it, stroke their hands over his skin, knead the small of his back. And they touch Ryou too, petting his hair and playing with his nipples and God knows what else, but it's good, it's right, it's perfect—

Ryou finishes fast, bucking up against Keith hard and wild as he shouts, straining under him until he collapses and goes lax. He still catches Keith and eases him down to his chest, even as he's shuddering in the aftershocks of his pleasure.

Keith drifts a little at that point, not entirely awake but not entirely out of it, either. It seems like maybe they all drift for a little while, because he can feel hands stroking over him, the occasional press of a mouth to his skin, but no real movement until someone groans and untangles himself from the rest of them.

There's more movement after that, hands that ease Keith off Ryou and maneuver him a bit like a doll. The damp cloths moving over his skin are the softest, smoothest material available, but even so the friction of them is nearly too much. Keith whines in protest as they clean him off, only to be hushed gently, apologetically, and cuddled against someone's chest. That's soothing enough that he puts up with the rest. 

Then someone holds a glass to his lips, insistent, until he drinks from it. The water is cool on his tongue, feels good sliding down his throat. After the first reluctant sip, he drinks greedily, heedless of the water dribbling down his chin or the soft rumble of laughter surrounding him. 

After that, they _finally_ let him lie down—well, he's eased down and promptly surrounded by warm arms and solid bodies that cuddle him close. Keith hums when someone begins stroking his hair, that alone enough to start him on the way to real sleep.

Before he succumbs, he feels warm lips against his forehead and Shiro's voice. "You good?"

"So good," Keith mumbles, not quite able to open his eyes. "Gonna do that again soon, yeah?"

The chorus of soft chuckles, fond and acquiescent, that greet that makes him hum again, pleased, and he falls asleep smiling.


End file.
